


If I Had A Heart

by killerxxqueen, Saintduma



Category: Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Loki Angst, Loki Feels, M/M, Protective Thor, Sibling Incest, Thor Feels, Thorki - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:10:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerxxqueen/pseuds/killerxxqueen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saintduma/pseuds/Saintduma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ragnarok is upon them and in order to survive it, Loki has convinced his brother to hide with him.  The trickster uses it as an opportunity to reclaim what is truly his.  </p>
<p>::Contains some powerbottom Loki and restraints, everything you need for some hot Thorki smut.  ;) ::</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Had A Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note, this is a raw RP log from the MCU Universe mixed heavily with Norse mythology that I've been writing with @SaintDuma for months now. In this story, Loki's youngest child Topias works to change the course of Ragnarok and succeeds, changing the lives of everyone...including his father and uncle. ^_^ Do enjoy. Hot smut ensues.

If there was one good thing to be said about this war-- this not-war-of-Ragnarok-- it was that in this entire time fighting, Loki had not left Thor’s side.

 

That might not have been a comfort, once upon a time.  Once, Thor would have suspected his brother of biding his time, waiting to strike, to take him down before he could himself take out one of his children but-- well--

 

All of that had changed.

 

The signal to start Ragnarok had come, and Thor and Loki had arrived to find that Topias was there to ensure it would not happen the way it was written.  His brother had named his Fatechanger and the boy had taken it as a personal challenge, and so far-- so far it had succeeded.  Tyr had abandoned Odin.  Odin had not been slain by Fenrir, and Fenrir had not been slain by Thor, and Jormungand was nowhere to be seen or heard of, and by any who had been to Midgard, had disappeared.  

 

No one had heard from Topias, but that didn’t matter.  The war raged across the Realms and nothing was how they had thought it would be.  The deaths were great but they were not what any had expected.  There was no destruction of realms.  

 

It didn’t mean they weren’t still fighting.  Loki had just killed Heimdall, but the Guardian of the Bifrost was convinced Loki had truly brought about Ragnarok, no matter what he had seen of how the Allfather had died.  Perhaps the Guardian had thought Topias was the true Fenrir; the children of Loki all could change, after all.  

 

It didn’t matter.

 

Thor pulled at the straps of his armor, needing to stand unweighted for a minute in this cold cave.  He felt like he hadn’t been rid of it in centuries, though it was hardly so long.  The weight of it seemed heavier for how many deaths he had seen, but they had survived this long.  It was alright to take it off a little while; they were safe.  Loki said they were safe.  Thor had come to trust his brother.  

 

The armor carefully piled on his over-tunic, he sat on his cloak, stained and tattered, but at least not the bare cave floor, and heaved a heavy sigh.  He craved rest.

 

Loki turned green eyes to his brother, narrowing them as the warrior sat down.  They hadn’t stopped for months now.  The war outside was raging throughout all of the realms now.  The fires of Muspelheim had exploded, traveling through the nine worlds and burning so much of them.  Their mother had disappeared.  

 

They had seen their father’s bones.  

 

The mischief god had seen his youngest and his eldest children so close to death.  Hel had claimed many souls since then, his daughter was too much like her mother.  Proud, arrogant...far too powerful for her own good.  He stopped next to his brother after pulling a boulder in front of the opening with his magic.  They could wait out the battle here.  It had taken days to convince Thor that the only way to survive this war was to wait it out.  Too many in the realms would hunt them down without reason.  Brother would turn on brother, neighbor on neighbor.  There were no loyalties out there.  

 

Not until it was over.  

 

Better to run, live to fight another day...than be slain for nothing.  

 

He rolled his eyes, “So the mighty Thor does get tired.” Loki could not stop the verbal jab.  Thor had pulled him into this cave.  While safe, it was not the most comfortable of locations.  

 

“Weary of seeing loved ones lost, but never of battle,” Thor half-growled, but there was no real heart init.  “You know full well how difficult it is to see my companions cut down.  I can only hope Sif survives; I have not been able to find her, and Heimdall would not tell me.”  

 

Sif.  He loved her, and she him, but they were spirits independent of each other; he knew her instinct as a mother and as a warrior could possibly keep his children safe, but they were also warriors, and he could not influence their decisions.  

 

He hoped they were hiding in Midgard, to be truthful.  Like he knew Loki’s favored, Topias, was.  Though if the war came to Topias, there was every possibility he could turn it away alone.  Thor knew little about true sorcery but what he had seen of Loki’s youngest, he was more formidable than anyone he’d ever met, and Thor had met millions of sorcerers, truly.

 

“Can you see, brother?” he asked quietly.  “Is it in your power to scry her out?”

 

If only he could know.  His wife, and his children.  He could wait until all this ended happily if he only knew.

 

“My power does not extend that far, Brother.” An honest admission, though it was spoken in the same snark.  Thor would be able to tell the difference.  Loki did not care about Sif, the two had never gotten along...even as children when he cut off her flowing golden locks, right after she’d tripped him into a latrine ditch.  The god of lies and mischief had his own brood to worry about.  Jormungand, the one he’d convinced the Allfather to banish to Midgard so he would never be bothered, was the largest of his children.  He would undoubtedly be the largest target should the war find its way to Midgard.  

 

Fenrir was already dead, the first casualty of the war.  Hel would never be a target.  Topias could fend off so many, but even he could be taken by surprise.  

 

And Frigg..

 

He turned away from his brother, finding his own rock and finally sitting down.  “I would hold high hopes for their survival, Brother.  Your children were never the brightest stars in the sky.”  Modi and Magni took after their father in most respects.  Sif was an excellent warrior, but had little talent for deceit.  

 

“Brightness though they lack, the name Thorsson is enough reason to betray, for some.”  

 

Thor sighed, and resigned himself to be worried, and unknowing, until they could feel the war had passed.  He ran his hand over his face and through his sun-yellow hair, and picked up Mjollnir.  He could hear water under one of these rocks, and cold water was better than nothing.  He tapped at the rock until he was certain where it was, and a swing of the star-hammer opened up part of the cave to an underground spring.  He pulled his boots off, and rolled up his trousers, and dropped down.  He gasped, finding it to be much, much warmer than he’d expected.  It was a hot spring, and beautifully, blissfully clear.  At least there was some comfort to be found in this dank place.  

 

He looked up at Loki.  “It’s a hot spring,” he announced.  “There is some comfort to be had.”

 

“It does not help them that their father’s first response to a problem is ‘How hard to I have to hit it for it to die?’” Loki would not stop with the verbal jabs, quite angry with Thor.  Though he loved and trusted his brother, he had far too much to worry about to find some comfort in his little hot spring.

 

He moved to pull off his own boots, laying them over another before unfurling his long winter cloak along the rock ledge into a makeshift bed.  The furs around the shoulder would serve as cushion enough.  

 

Thor began to wash his feet and legs, his hands and his face.  He was used to this sort of abuse from his little brother.  Loki had, of late, only complained.  They both had things to worry about.  And yet Loki had chosen to stay by Thor’s side, pestering him to find shelter to wait through the war, and finally Thor had given in, tired of seeing so many of his friends die-- and now Loki was sniping at him yet again.  

 

“Suit yourself,” he replied.  “It will hardly disappear, I’m sure.”  He knew it drove Loki mad when he didn’t rise to the bait.  Loki would just keep baiting until Thor yelled, of course, because when Thor yelled, Loki won, having lost his temper-- how could Loki expect him to change when he wanted only the same strange reassurance?

 

The Jotun rolled his eyes, pulling a hand against the side of the ledge and let a trail of ice find its way from his fingertips to the hot spring.  Quickly freezing over the top few inches and trapping Thor’s hands in place.  “Unless something such as that were to happen.”  He smirked to himself, he could get a reaction out of Thor if it killed him.  He felt safe in the confines of his brother’s anger.  He always had.  If they were in trouble, Thor’s strength...so long as it was pointed in the right direction by Loki, would save them.  

 

Thor gave an annoyed sound at that, and pulled at the ice, arms flexing until the ice broke, and then breaking it away from his calves.  He started to climb out of the hole he’d made, paused, and gathered several pieces of ice, beginning to lob them at his brother from the hole, showering him in pieces of ice that were nothing more than annoying.    
  
“You-” chunk of ice “are-” chunk of ice “the-” chunk of ice “most-” chunk of ice “impetuous-” chunk of ice “brat.”

 

He wasn’t really angry, though.  He was too tired to be angry.  Too worried to be angry.  Too concerned about all of their family.  It only took the first chunk of ice hitting close to his face before a barrier emerged between them, “You have horrible aim, Brother.  Just as bad as my youngest.  That boy could not hit the broad side of a skiff.” Loki practically growled at his brother, sending a particularly sharp chunk of ice at his head.  Catching him just hard enough to open up a small cut above his brow.  “Your hammer has better aim than you do.”  

 

“It is I who throw it,” Thor growled, pulling himself up out of the quickly-melting spring.  “And now is not the time to insult your son, when he has done more than you could ever do.”  

 

That was out of anger; he regretted it, because really, Loki had done so much.  And in a way, Loki had done all this-- ensured all of this-- on their behalf.  It was Loki who had taken the risks, sacrificed his children-- Thor thought of Fenrir, huge and still, and Topias so inconsolable, and his regret showed on his face.  Loki had lost as much as Topias, and more.  Easily.

 

Though the god of lies had not lost a lover yet...the moment those words left Thor’s lips, the god of thunder found his lowerhalf encased in ice.  Loki got up from the ledge and stomped over to his brother, practically spitting venom at him. “He would not have been anything if I had not defied Odin one final time.  He would have been enslaved on Midgard by some manner of stupid sorcerer if I had not brought him here.  Topias would have done nothing if not for what I have done for him and for the realms.”  He was seething.  Trust my rage, he’d told Thor once upon a time.

 

After Balder’s death, when his loyalties had been called into question and he’d been imprisoned in that cave on the sharp rocks.  Sigyn had been his only ally then.  Thor had said nothing when the AllFather commanded that Vali be changed into a starved wolf and force Loki to watch as he ripped Narvi to shreds.  Then to be bound to those rocks with Narvi’s entrails. “If I had done nothing, Ragnarok would be here and you, almighty Thor, would be dead along with everyone else you proclaim to love.”

 

Loki’s ice could not hold Thor’s anger, though.  His sorcery never truly bound him, and Thor never questioned if that was on purpose or not.  

 

“You did all those things, and everything was done to you, but Topias is not just a tool you shaped,” he replied, wrenching his hips from side to side and kicking a chunk of the ice towards the opening of the cave.  “All that was done dragged you to that point but it was still he who pushed himself further than you asked.  It was still he who defied us all and tempted the wrath of all of Asgard.  You made him, you began to temper him--” he kicked his other foot free.  “But it was he who forged himself into what he is, in a fraction of the time we have been alive.  And you mock him, your brightest child!”  He shoved Loki, one-handedly.  “You mock him who saw the hells we have all seen and decided they were not acceptable.  The one who decided on his own he would give every particle of himself to change it all.  There would be no better king of gods than a child that did what yours did and you mock him.”  He shoved him again.  Topias was not his, but Thor loved him dearly.  He’d loved him enough to take a death geas for him, something he had not done for anyone in the Realms, and would likely never, ever do again.  

 

Loki growled the moment he was pushed, but it quickly turned into a smile. “Jealous, Thor?  Wishing Topias was your own instead of mine?”  He dodged the ice that was thrown at him, before using his magic to create a shade...so he could quickly go behind his brother in the shadows and push him over.  Bowl the greater man over onto his back.  When Thor found himself on the stone floor, straddled by his brother...his crafty, silver-tongued brother...Loki could feel his reaction.  And he mocked him for it.  

 

“And such a reaction from your jealousy, my brother.”  

 

“You know I could not have produced a child like him,” Thor snarled up at Loki.  He never would fail to fall for that, he knew, because Loki would never let him, really.  The ways in which Loki’s sorcery would always best him.  

 

In a way, he did not mind.  Much like he didn’t mind Loki across his hips like this, and he didn’t bother to deny it.  In all their fighting as children and adults-- well, usually armor did something to disguise it, but rage or company distracted him enough.  Here, his anger was, for once, not sustainable, and there were no others to distract them.  Not even Heimdall’s gaze, cut blind and dead by his pale, dark-haired brother.  Loki was beautiful and it was not a secret.  He sat up, scowling still, and took that angled jaw in his hand, his face close to Loki’s, but this was not a kiss.  He shook his brother’s head slightly.  “I have kept my jealousy in check a long time.”

 

“Then you hold yourself back.”  

 

He sneered at Thor, taking his brother’s wrist in his hand and removing it from his jaw.  Only a moment later, Thor felt sharp teeth on the mound of his thumb.  Hard enough that he had drawn blood.  Loki licked the wound, this was not the first time he had tasted his brother’s blood.  And it was so much more different than his own.  Than Topi’s or even Sigyn’s.  “You limit yourself by keeping such things in check.  You made yourself weak.”  He bared his teeth to Thor.  

 

Thor’s other hand came up, and he took Loki by the throat, rising easily and lifting him against the rock wall, pressing him against it and his body against Loki.  It was crushingly hard-- any human would be dead with that much pressure on their body-- and yet it simply made it hard for Loki to breathe without being able to feel Thor’s heartbeat against his chest.  

 

“While you played with the outer reaches of what is possible I have created solidity with what is known,” he replied, his growl reverberating through Loki’s body, his obvious arousal pressing against Loki’s thigh.  “I know your affection for me.  We are opposite matter; will we not explode if pressed too close?”

 

Loki kept those white teeth bared for a moment before he snapped at Thor’s lip when the god of thunder moved in close enough.  His brother was his superior in physical strength alone, but he had tricks of his own still hidden up his sleeves.  He wrapped those tight leather-clad legs around Thor’s waist, writhing against him.  Teasing him.  Loki had prided himself on teasing his brother as a child.  No one knew how to break Thor down faster than his younger brother.  “As I know yours, Brother.”  There was a slight gasping to his words as his face reddened. “You know nothing of solidity…”  

 

When Thor tried to squeeze harder, his hand went right through his brother’s neck.  Another illusion.

 

Loki appeared behind him, pulling his hair to throw him to the ground before straddling him again.  The very stone of the cave floor reformed around Thor’s wrists, glowing with Loki’s magic to create bindings.  Unbreakable bindings.  

 

Thor gave a howl of frustration, pulling at the rock but finding no movement that would give him a chance to break free-- not even the smallest amount of wiggle.  Loki had sunk him into the floor, or at least enough to keep him where he was.  He glared up at his brother, but ground his hips against him anyway.  It was clear enough what this was doing to him.  

 

He’d wanted, of course.  For millenia.  But when they ceased to simply be teenagers, seeking the nearest, safest person to explore with-- he’d resisted.  The taboos were strange, and Odin had made it clear enough it wouldn’t be acceptable in the public eye.  

 

Maybe that was why he felt so bad for Topi, who loved his brother openly, and lost him.  Thor could not stand to lose Loki.

 

But Odin was dead, and if they survived, Thor would take the throne of Asgard.  He could make his own rules so long as he didn’t insult Sif, or Sigyn.  If they both lived.  And for now-- damn it all.  There were no rules in such a war.  

 

“Tell me what you intend to do,” he demanded, mostly-- mostly because he wanted to hear it from Loki’s beautiful mouth.

 

“I intend to use you as you have used me for centuries.” Loki snarled down at him, peeling those tight leathers down his long, pale legs and baring himself to his brother.  They had not touched each other for so long.  More than a few thousand years and he hated Thor for it.  For choosing to listen to their father...for choosing Sif over him.  

 

The god of mischief was all long lines and lean muscle, with black hair that fell down to his shoulders in curls.  He was beautiful...and even more incensed that Thor had chosen Sif...a woman that looked so much like him, particularly after he cut off those flowing golden locks.  The snarl quickly turned into grin as a dagger appeared in his hand.  He bent down, sliding the sharp blade under Thor’s heavy belt and cut it from his waist before pulling his trousers down.  Thor was heavy with arousal against his stomach, too heavy to even stand upright.  

 

Thor did not know exactly what his brother meant by that, but he knew how unhappy Loki had been when he had chosen Sif.  Angular, dark-haired, bright-eyed, slender of limb, but a warrior from beginning to end where Loki was a sorcerer-- and, obviously, not Loki, despite being so similar in looks.  

 

He knew it had not been lost on some, that he had chosen Sif.  It was not lost on Sif, either.  But he did not love Sif for looking like his brother in a woman’s body; he loved Sif for her alone.  Maybe the lust that had carried them at first-- but no longer.  There was a distinction, even if there hadn’t been, in the beginning.

 

He panted slightly, looking up at Loki.  Waiting for Loki to cut the rest of his clothing away, trusting him not to simply kill him.  If Loki had ever been tempted, Thor’s shame would be there for all to see when he was discovered.  Erect, bound, compliant, waiting for his brother, desperate to consummate with him.  

 

“I love you, Loki,” he said, and hoped it did not surprise him.

 

“We will see.”  

 

The Jotun didn’t bother to cut the rest of it away, he simply pulled down those trousers and went to his knees beside Thor.  His brother was beautiful...not graceful by any means, but he was absolutely beautiful.  He trailed the flat side of his dagger up the length of his brother’s arousal, grinning up at him.  “We will see how much you love me...if you truly love me.”  Loki would not betray his brother again, this was just a game.  One that had been played many times when they were boys.  “Would it pain you if I told you that your affections were not returned?” He moved, straddling Thor’s waist and moving back so his ass rubbed that burgeoning arousal. “That I chose a woman over you?”  They had the time now...this was all going to come out into the open.  

 

It would be a pleasant distraction from thinking on how their loved ones were dying in a war they could not win.  

 

Thor inhaled as the cold steel moved over his cock; it responded to the touch of the weapon, his body remembering this game as much as his mind.  His eyes moved to Loki’s face.  Of course he loved Loki; after all of these years, after the millions of ways Odin would have liked to see his trouble-bearing son dispensed of, the ways Thor had avoided drawing attention to his brother-- he loved him deeply.  Thousands of years of separation had been bitter.  And they hadn’t truly made up yet.  

 

He rocked his hips, just a little, testing if Loki would allow it in his game.  

 

“It would pain me,” Thor panted slightly.  “Any thought of losing you would pain me.  Any thought of not having you by my side.  Without your affection I might wither and die.”  

 

He did not want to answer the question about Sif.  He loved Sif.  He had not chosen her over Loki; he had chosen her because he could not have Loki.  “I could not stand you to choose anyone over me,” he said.  

 

He ached.  He always did around Loki; how could his brother stand to tease so?

 

“And yet you chose someone else when you could not have me.” The knife went to Thor’s throat the moment his hips bucked upwards, but Loki thought better of it.  The dagger was placed to the side and his long fingers wrapped around Thor’s neck instead.  Two could play this game, particularly since he’d bound his brother to the floor.  He squeezed tightly for a few long seconds, long enough for Thor’s vision to go hazy around the edges.  “I never chose anyone over you.  My wife and mistress were a means to an end.”  Truer words were never spoken, but when he was younger...he had loved Angrboda.  

 

The Jotun witch had taken a young frost giant as her lover, to use mostly...and when he’d said the words, she’d laughed in his face.  

 

That had been when Loki decided to love no one.  No one besides his brother.  “Now that I finally have you...I will not be second place again.”  He let go of Thor’s throat entirely, sliding down his brother’s muscled frame until his lips were even with Thor’s groin.  Loki could feel the need practically radiating off his powerful god of thunder.  

 

He dragged his silver tongue up the length of Thor’s cock, those green eyes never leaving his brother’s face.

 

“To choose noone would have been to have had someone chosen for me,” he replied, and as true as it was, it was not a real defense.  And once Thor took the throne-- he could make the choices for himself.  He had to decide how he would present it to Asgard.  

 

He had made the choice, of course.

 

The choking-- Loki’s hands around his neck-- it was intimate.  Especially with Loki’s face close enough to kiss, but those hands kept him pressed against the floor, each time he tried to draw breath he imagine Loki’s mouth was closer, and as the edges of his vision began to lose solidity he thought he could feel Loki’s lips on his own--

 

and then breath flooded his lungs, and he gasped to fill them, wanting nothing more than to fill them from Loki’s mouth, but Loki would not allow it, not while he climbed down his frame.  

 

“No,” he managed to rasp.  “No one will be before you.”  

 

He would make it happen.  As that tongue slid up his cock-- his face was surrender, determination.  He would make it happen.

 

Loki couldn’t help the grin that slid across his face, once seen by Thor when he’d gone mad...truly mad, but victorious.  His midnight locks fell out of place, framing his face as he went for another lick.  The taste of his brother.  Mineral water...sweat...leather, it was intoxicating, but Loki would not lose himself to it.  Not just yet.  

 

Not when there was a lesson still to be learned here.  

 

He went to work on Thor, talented lips and tongue working on teasing the god of thunder until his arousal was weeping with his desire and throbbing with need.  Loki did not need to speak to truly use that silver tongue.  Though his own cock ached to be touched, he did nothing to satisfy himself, save tasting his brother.  

 

Thor was writhing, unable to move so much of his body and yet managing, somehow, to barely stay still enough for Loki to work.  Loki’s grin might speak madness, but Loki’s true talent was the madness to which he drove others-- like he was driving Thor, right now.  He had no control at all and yet felt like there were no kings that had ever been serviced like this.  He needed him.  His mouth, his hand, his ass, any part of his body, Thor would have, right this moment, if Loki would only give it to him.

 

He pulled back for a short while, stroking his brother with a firm grip.  

 

Those green eyes searched Thor’s, looking for answers when he’d asked no questions.  The god of thunder would be his again, just like he’d been when they were boys together in the halls of Asgard.  Loki moved then, still stroking his brother.  He waved his free hand in the air, producing a small bottle of oil with another grin.  A simple conjuring trick.  He poured it over that beautiful length before moving forward one more time.  It had been so long...he’d had no other like this but Thor.  

 

He held Thor’s cock steady with one hand while he slowly slid down onto him.  Slowly, savoring every moment of pain.  The sensation of being so utterly filled and stretched.  It was beautiful...and he was beautiful.  Thor could see his brows furrow in concentration, watching those deep breaths make that slim chest rise and fall.  

 

There was truly nothing so beautiful Thor could think of in this moment but watching Loki’s face, paired with the sensation of entering him.  The way his mouth was slightly open, breathing slowly, his brows furrowed-- Thor had imagined this so many times over the past several thousand years, and missed him, but forced himself to move on.  And now he had him, or rather-- Loki had Thor-- and though Thor wanted to touch Loki in this moment, to wrap a hand around that length and move, to show him how much he’d wanted to touch him for too long-- this was perfect, too.  Surrendering to his brother.  Filling him.

 

Bliss.

 

Loki had Thor now and he was never going to let him go.  This god of thunder was utterly and entirely his.  He gave a soft moan, knowing he would not last.  Not the first time in so long.  The trickster finally locked eyes with Thor when he was fully seated, “Still as wonderful as you remember?” Relations with Sif could not compare to this, Loki knew that was the truth deep in Thor’s heart.  Sif was a beautiful and strong warrior, but she was not the one on Thor’s mind...nor the name on his lips.  That was only him.  Hips bucked softly back and forth, just enough to rub the tip of his own arousal against Thor’s stomach.  

 

“More than I remember,” Thor managed, his words only barely intelligible between his gasps, arms straining against the rock as he arched and writhed under Loki.  “Loki,” he moaned his brother’s name; the name he had wanted to moan for so long.  “Loki, I-- I cannot bear--”  he was not going to last.  Loki’s body was something he had dreamed of for too long to be able to keep himself from coming.  “Loki--”

 

He rested his delicate hand on that broad chest before he began to really move.  Loki was like a god possessed as he rode his brother, the cries that left his mouth were practically obscene.  He couldn’t help himself.  The bonds holding his brother down disappeared, his knees bruising on the stone below them.  Loki could take no more of it. “You will bear it,” He rasped at Thor, “You will bear it until I finish…”  

 

He was so close anyway.  “No one else before me… not even yourself.  Swear it.”  That hand went to Thor’s throat again as the other went to his own length, hurriedly stroking himself to bring on that climax.  

 

Thor’s hands went to Loki’s thighs when they were free, and his hips moved more freely that he had purchase with the rest of his body; his hand came up and wrapped around Loki’s cock, pumping furiously, wanting to feel Loki come in his hand so badly.  Wanting to feel him come around his cock.  That body, moving--

 

“I swear it,” he panted.  “I swear it.  None before you in my heart.”  

 

After all, hadn’t it always been this way?  Thor had his own sons, and a wife, and yet it was Loki and his children Thor thought of, and it was Loki he imagined alone, and it was Loki he had fought with his father over for so long.  

 

It was not a change, it was simply finally saying it aloud.

 

That was enough.

 

On the edge of a sharp cry, Loki came smiling.  The biggest grin he’d ever had as his head fell back, spilling over his brother’s hand and stomach.  He clenched around Thor’s cock and didn’t stop that furious pace.  The only thing that mattered now was the god of thunder’s climax.  Loki had what he wanted.  He had Thor’s loyalty and love.  A spoken geas, uttered from the heart.

 

Thor came only moments after, his hand still moving over Loki’s cock, his body arching and thrusting-- filling him and continuing moving because it felt like he had somehow returned to shelter in the middle of this insane realm-crushing war.  

 

His body remembered his brother’s, and his heart wanted only to pull him close.  So he did, wrapping his arms around him and pulling Loki against his chest as he panted, still sheathed inside of him.

 

“You are mine.” He spoke softly into Thor’s ear, wrapping his arms around that beautiful man in return.  “If you stray from me again, I’ll cut out your heart and feed it to you.”  

 

“And you are mine,” he replied, those huge arms holding him tightly, as if he could physically remind himself of it.  “I hope that is a promise.  Without you I do not think I have a heart.”

 


End file.
